Hilda's Shrine

A small, ruined stone temple sits at the front of a long, mirror-like lake. The lake and temple tend to vanish and reappear somewhere else. They're always found shrouded in fog, light, or some other mirage-like distortion. Many who come across the shrine are sure it is merely an illusion or a spell. Some swear they found a beautiful woman there, which only serves to heighten the disbelief in its existence.

"The only thing that makes a discipline lesser is its wielder's ignorance in using it. A child can learn to summon a horrifying cataclysm through a form of brute-force magic, or a simple priest could learn to invoke true miracles through the power of hope. I once knew a woman whose only magical power was healing plants. Having shrugged her off, I later watched her destroy a raid by resurrecting a forest underneath them, tangling their limbs in wood, then encouraging the plants to age and wither until the once-formidable militia was both dead and buried."

"I do not. I sought a name and was offered none. We did become relatively close allies, once, but she never exposed her identity. She left suddenly and without much warning, leaving me with an immortal shrubbery I had to leave behind when I was exiled."

"Oh, look! The sun is rising." Barely. Dawn begins to lighten the sky as seen through the window, and the fog appears to have subsided. "You may disembark here. I myself need to find a local village. Thank you for your company," Hilda says as she rises gracefully and sweeps out of the ruins. The demon remains sitting on the wall, lizardlike, making not a sound.

"Kevranstown," Hilda says emphatically, slamming shut a dossier on her quilt. "And barely a month too late. A man of his name there, similar description, familial abilities..."

"I'm telling you, we should see a fortune teller!" exclaims the imp. "We can find everything we're seeking if we consult one of them."

"Too risky," Hilda says, sounding slightly frantic. "Do you know how many of them are shams? Or give entirely the wrong advice? The jewels I stole from my husband's palace following my exile went to fortune tellers, who told me precious little of worth."

"I'll sniff them out for you. Find your family. Scry. Sorcerize. I'll be back." The heart-faced imp laughs hollowly and scampers off into the night on all fours. Hilda tosses the dossier into the pond in a rare display of ire, then draws her cloak around herself and kneels at the water's edge. The wind starts to blow, and the water's surface becomes calmer, a scene of a distant landscape slowly filling in...